


It Takes a Spark to Light a Fire

by SgtPepper007



Series: Haikyuu!! Oneshots [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Musicians, Piano, Psychological, ragtime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24807670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SgtPepper007/pseuds/SgtPepper007
Summary: Ten years after graduating from the most prestigious college of music in Tokyo and losing his passion for playing the piano, Shibayama is defenseless when his past shackles come back with force and tug at his scars. But Inuoka is there to patch him up, show him a new kind of light and a spark Shibayama thought he had lost.
Relationships: Inuoka Sou & Shibayama Yuuki, Inuoka Sou/Shibayama Yuuki
Series: Haikyuu!! Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794340
Comments: 20
Kudos: 18





	It Takes a Spark to Light a Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, music is the dearest friend of mine that inspired me to write after months of not being able to. But this time I'm back with my first ever Haikyuu!! fic. I wrote many stories the past two years, but it is my first time writing one for the Haikyuu!! fandom and to say that I'm nervous is an understatement. I'm scared and insecure as hell.
> 
> And please someone tell me that the fourth season won't take ages before it continues (damn you, corona virus) :'(((( I need new Haikyuu!! anime content, pretty please!
> 
> Anyway, here I go again with a rare ship because rare ships are life. I hope you'll enjoy this emotional ride. You can listen to the song that inspired me, [Sky Dancing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5j1nMp1kHPg) by Patrick Watson, if you want to get in the mood.
> 
> Also, this oneshot wasn't beta-ed. I read it a few times and made corrections I could see, but I apologise if I (most likely) missed a couple of mistakes.
> 
> Lastly, I want to give a huge shout out to [thesoupiestsoupster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoupiestsoupster) who made an amazing and beautiful [fanart](https://twitter.com/thesoupiestsou1/status/1292503147332743168) inspired by this fic! I was not expecting it at all and I can't stop admiring it. I'm so incredibly happy and honoured, gosh >_< I adore it and I am really really really grateful for it! Here, take all my gratefulness and love!

_東京音楽大学,_ _Tōyō Ongaku Daigaku_.

'Tokyo College of Music,' as indicated on the burgundy sign, an imposing modern building situated at the heart of the Toshima prefecture founded as the ‘Tokyo Conservatory of Music’ stood proudly in front of the young adult’s eyes. The young man gulped, feeling his nerves about to swallow him whole. 

Shibayama should have known that he would have to step foot in his former college from a decade ago in one way or another. He should have been mentally prepared to be standing in front of the building in which he had spent three years studying after graduating from high school, yet he had never really grasped his mind around the mere idea of entering the building ever again. After all, he had successfully managed to avoid being in contact with the college after much effort the past years. He should have known that he wouldn’t be able to avoid the conservatory forever. His stomach still churned nervously at the sight of the kanjis inscribed at the entrance, just like every time he happened to pass by in front of it.

With his tool bag in hand, he closed his eyes for a moment and took deep, slow breaths. _“It’s the summer break, the end of term and the finals was a week ago. No one will be there and no one will recognise you. Just do your job and then you’ll never have to go to this place again.”_ Repeating these soothing words to himself managed to give him an ounce of courage, Shibayama tightening his grip on the tool bag and opening his eyes with determination. He had a job to do and he would do it. He had sworn he wouldn’t let his personal life intervene with his work and his resolution was as solid as steel.

While heading towards his first destination of the day, Shibayama’s prediction revealed being true; aside from very few students he had never seen before, the practice rooms and classrooms were empty. Only the noise of his footsteps echoing into the quiet of the halls being indicators of life, punctuated by occasional sounds of various instruments, mostly winds and brass. It was a given that some students would still be up practicing at nine in the morning even after intense and stressful performing weeks and examinations. 

Even his greeting was relatively uneventful, aside from meeting once again with the head director of the institution, Yachi Madoka. Frankly speaking, he was quite nervous to meet her after ten years, which unfortunately obliged him to chit chat with the older woman for five minutes, a relatively short moment that seemed to drag on and on and that plunged him in a flood of unwanted memories from his college days. But setting aside his awkward reunion with the director he had grown being not very fond of over the years, he was greeted by the security guards, who to his relief were men that weren’t employed when he was a full time student. And as he walked through the halls leading him towards the first step of his contract, he could feel his frantic heart rate slowing down at the understanding that he truly didn’t know anyone else in the conservatory. He was still tiptoeing, but seeing his chances of meeting other people he had studied with diminish calmed his nerves a little bit, his clammy hands loosening their strong grip on his bag. While it would have been unnerving under normal circumstances, being greeted by unfamiliar faces was comforting for the young man.

His breath hitched once he penetrated the concert hall, lights on and the only audience being one of the security guards who left him on his own as soon as he unlocked and opened the door for him. Shibayama stood at the far back of the hall for a moment as he stared at the stage, suddenly feeling his muscles constrict at the memory of his final examination that took place in the exact same room ten years ago, the performance that had granted him an undergraduate diploma. He could still see Yachi-san clapping proudly in the audience, the judges giving him hard, unreadable stares and his fingers pressing the piano keys with fervour. He could still feel the ache that had consumed him during those painful forty five minutes in front of an audience consisting of his closest friends, classmates and family members. He could feel the ache of wanting nothing more but to finish his damned final examination, the ache of not feeling the music anymore, the ache of pretending that he was okay.

Strange but familiar and almost forgotten emotions resurfaced for a brief second before he pushed these old feelings in the back of his mind, taking steady and firm steps towards the three grand pianos in the middle of the stage. Shibayama put his tool bag on the floor and before his stomach would knot more than it already did, he directed all his concentration on the long and tedious work awaiting him. The pianos at the conservatory needed to be tuned and they would be in good and healthy shape by the end of the day.

o

Eight o’clock hit quicker than Shibayama thought. In the span of eleven hours (with a couple of breaks Shibayama learned he should never skip or underestimate the power of), he managed to tune the three grand pianos of the concert hall, the two ones in the smaller recital room and the last two in the practice hall designated to the orchestra. The grand pianos were all in good condition, making the work a tad bit easier for the young man. It was to be expected; the company he worked for, Nekomata, regularly tuned and tended to the pianos of the conservatory. His colleagues were some of the best of the country as well. Other factors also made his task less complicated such as every room temperature and level of humidity being thoroughly controlled. It wasn’t a given for most of his clients. God knows the awful state some of the pianos he was assigned to restore and tune were in his six years of experience with Nekomata. And now, after the grand pianos having been in greater use and stress than usual by the students and the piano accompanists because of the final exams that had lasted the whole month, a tuning and check up was a secure thing to do.

Once he had put his mind into it, Shibayama had been able to be completely focused on his task. And as he was closing his tool bag, a content sigh escaped his lips. Evaluating, polishing certain elements of the instrument and tuning it was long and hard but very satisfying once his days working on all kinds of pianos were over. Knowing that all the grand pianos he had put in good shape in the conservatory were work done with his own hands, that the instruments could now be healthy and of good use for the next years to come put Shibayama’s mind at ease.

Feeling his body aching in tiredness, Shibayama wiped the sweat off his forehead and walked with light steps towards the exit of the orchestra’s practice hall. He couldn’t wait to crash at his place, eat and sleep.

“BOO!” 

Shibayama let out a loud scream, his bag falling on the ground as he jumped out of fear, his heart threatening to rip his chest apart. A laugh resonated in the empty hallway, bright and amused. “I always get you even after all those years! You’re so easy to scare, Taketora!” Shibayama frowned after hearing his colleague’s first name, confused. While trying to catch his breath, eyes wide in his fright, he saw a man coming out from behind the door of the hall that was still open, closing it as he still laughed wholeheartedly. He had his eyes closed in his laughing fit, seemingly finding his jumpscare hilarious, much to Shibayama’s disagreement. “Oi, you good there? Did I give you a heart attack Take-” the stranger stopped mid-sentence, laugh ceasing in realisation as he took in Shibayama’s appearance.

The man in front of Shibayama was tall, easily towering over him. He had spiky brown hair and brown eyes, wearing a dark navy blue pair of pants matching with an identical dark navy blue coloured long sleeved shirt, a white t-shirt peeking from underneath it. It was an apparel Shibayama quickly identified as a janitor’s uniform if the stranger’s carriage filled with cleaning products, a bin and cloth weren’t good indicators enough. Shibayama caught sight of the name _Inuoka Sou_ sewed on the other man’s shirt. “Tora- Where is Taketora? Isn’t he the one to tune the pianos here?” 

The stranger eyed him with wide eyes, as surprised as Shibayama. The latter released a deep breath, his pulse still fast. “I’m replacing Yamamoto-san. His current contract is taking longer than expected.”

The taller man nodded in understanding. He then lifted his hand, scratching his head while looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry! I was sure Tora- Yamamoto was the one working today. I wouldn’t have pulled that prank on you if I knew... Sorry about that!”

The shorter man waved his hand in dismissal, “It’s fine, stuff like that happens… I guess?”

The brown haired male’s cheeks turned a shy hue of pink as he hummed. “I’m sorry, this is just a stunt I’ve been doing to Yamamoto for years now, you could call it a ritual or something.”

“I… I see.”

“Yeah, and he’s your colleague, you must know him well right? He’s always looking all tough and serious but he’s such a softie and pranking him is just so much fun! And his screams are always so high pitched!” He started to laugh, childish smile and gestures turning wilder the more he spoke. Shibayama watched him with curiosity, still partially taking in what was happening. Once he felt Shibayama’s stare on him, he cleared his throat, the pink dusting his cheeks darker. “Ah! I shouldn’t ramble so much, sorry! I’m Inuoka Sou by the way. Nice to meet you!”

“Shibayama Yuuki, nice to meet you too.”

The stranger, Inuoka, bowed politely, Shibayama mirroring the action. Shibayama didn’t have much time to be awkward like most of the times he meets someone for the first time (courtesy of his shyness and introverted nature) because Inuoka was truly a chatterbox. His new acquaintance accompanied him towards the entrance of the building even if Shibayama didn’t need assistance since he knew every corner of the Conservatory like the back of his hand. But he didn’t say a word and simply listened to Inuoka rambling, answering the occasional questions. The taller man listened attentively to his replies, no matter how short they were. He found Inuoka odd but in a strangely great way.

When Shibayama arrived home, he found himself feeling invigorated with newfound energy. While talkative people could easily drain all his energy in a second, Inuoka had the opposite effect on him. That night, instead of boiling a quick instant ramen, he bought a few ingredients in the convenience store and cooked himself a real meal before finishing the book that was accumulating dust on his shelf for months. 

o

Shibayama found himself standing at the entrance of the Conservatory again the following week, this time by Yamamoto’s side. Much to his dismay, the conservatory had another contract with the company consisting of tuning all the pianos in the practice rooms. Yamamoto was usually the one in charge of this task, but Yachi-san apparently had insisted on Shibayama tending to the job as well because he had done a ‘thorough and perfect execution,’ to quote her words. 

And it so happened that Shibayama had no clients that day, to which he cursed internally because he was usually never one to neglect this kind of thing. He had always meticulously accepted contracts handed by the company that would prevent him from going to the conservatory, a method that proved having no weaknesses the past six years he had spent under Nekomata. Yet after replacing Yamamoto once because of his pleading, _‘Yuuki, please! You’re the one I trust the most and I really, really need your favour now!’_ his generosity backfired on him.

Yamamoto and Shibayama decided on splitting the work in the two wings of the building; Yamamoto would do the right wing while Shibayama would do the left one. The whole contract would last five days, giving them enough time to tend to all the pianos occupying every single room, the grand pianos as well as the upright ones. Shibayama was not looking forward to it.

Spending the first day in the college wasn’t so bad (and he was thankful for the strictly controlled air conditioning in the whole building that drastically contrasted with the scorching hot summer heat), but the more the days passed, the heavier the weight on Shibayama’s shoulder was. Tuning the pianos in the grand halls was alright, but doing so in the practice rooms where he had spent most of his college days in was another story. After giving his farewell to the one place he wished he would never set foot in ever again, he was stuck again in the exact same rooms that had emotionally tortured him restlessly.

The practice rooms hadn’t changed one bit; they were still the dull light grey walls with either wide windows providing generous sunlight or ones giving sight of the hallways, illuminated by neons. Both were flooded by numerous memories, some better than others. A couple of them were full of laughter, of his favourite music theory professor practicing rhythms with bongos at the back of the classroom to the one harmony professor who taught him the beauty of Johann Sebastian Bach’s genius in his harmonisations. There were memories of him goofing around with his former classmates and friends close to midnight with their respective instruments, of them practicing for their choir class and laughing by faking being tone deaf (also making fun of the tenors who had much more difficult scores than the basses, the formers laughing at the basses when they had to reach the one E note above the staff) and turning masterpieces into the worst compositions there could ever be. These were the kinds of moments that had made his three years studying in performing classical music pleasant.

However, most memories Shibayama could remember were ones of him practicing over and over again, stressing out to the point of losing his ability to have restful sleep, of Yachi-san’s words about being proud of every single successful students the conservatory admitted and affirming that they only accepted the top students of the country. Shibayama could still feel the anguish he had felt when preparing his final examination in front of the jury and the public, the anguish of practicing hours on end every day in order to be better, and better, and better; better than his friends, better than his classmates, better than the prodigy they had newly accepted who won first place in the International Chopin Piano Competition because _‘Shibayama, you’re one of the most talented pianists in the history of the Conservatory, you have a bright and successful career ahead. Your talent and skills won’t be wasted here.’_

Shibayama could still see his parents clapping in the public in every single one of his performances, could still hear them bragging to the professors and the head director of the conservatory about how ‘exceptional’ and ‘gifted’ Shibayama was. He had a good ear and natural musical understanding, although hard and dedicated work wasn’t to be neglected. He could still hear his mother nagging at him when he wanted to take a day off, when he spent all his weekends locked up in practice rooms in the college because there wasn’t a piano in his home on which he could practice, when he would sometimes pretend to head to the conservatory but ended up walking downtown or reading at the library.

He could feel the hot tears streaming down his face and the tremors owning his body once he stepped out of the stage after his final performance because this wasn’t the life he wanted, because he had lost his soul the moment he enrolled at the conservatory, stripping him from the spark that had convinced him that he should study in music professionally; his sincere, pure love for music. He had played each and every note perfectly in his examination, but his performance was void of the most important thing Shibayama was convinced was the only element giving sense to music; passion. Passion and feelings. Both things he lost, things that his studies at the conservatory annihilated within him.

Once his final performance had ended, all the pressure had fallen along. He couldn’t remember a day in which he had cried as hard and as much. His childhood friend, Morisuke, had been there for him, had rubbed his shoulders and convinced him that he shouldn’t pursue a career as a performer if it would end up in him breaking down and being unhappy. Even if it meant cutting his ties with his family, even if it meant moving in an apartment on his own and working in a full time job at the supermarket for a whole year in a thick mist of unknowingness and an uncertain future.

There he was now, at the conservatory that had ripped him off of his strongest passion for playing piano and performing, tuning the exact same instruments he had spent endless time, sweat, desperation and tears on. It was quite ironic.

On the fourth day of the contract, the exact moment when it was too much for Shibayama, too much darkness, too many memories he wished he could forget, too many emotions he thought having coped with, knocks on the door of the practice room he was working in echoed, shaking Shibayama’s swirl of emotions with it. The door opened slowly, revealing spiky brown hair and a matching pair of eyes. “Can I come in? Am I bothering you?”

Shibayama shook his head in an attempt to straighten himself before replying, “You can enter, I was about to take a break anyway.”

“Then I came at the right time!” Inuoka entered the practice room, two milk breads in hands. “Want to spend your break with me? I’m taking mine too. I have snacks for two.” He raised his hands in emphasis, raising both eyebrows victoriously.

Shibayama eyed the said snacks with interest. It had been a while since he had eaten some and he couldn’t deny the fact that he was getting quite hungry. After all, he had eaten his lunch a couple of hours ago but was too overwhelmed with dread and couldn’t finish half of it. “You’re not eating it with Yamamoto?”

“Tora and I had a break earlier, now he’s tuning another piano. He says he has two more to do.”

“Are you sure that two breaks in a row is alright for you?”

The taller man smiled, teeth showing. “Of course! Just don’t tell it to anyone, okay? Don’t wanna get kicked out for that.” He then closed the door behind them and handed a milk bread to Shibayama before sitting on the floor. He didn’t waste a second to open the package his snack was enveloped in.

Shibayama eyed the sign clearly indicating that food and drinks were forbidden in the room and raised an eyebrow questioningly. If the staff of the college were as strict as ten years ago, they could both be chided without mercy for it. “I think that you’ll get kicked out for eating here more than for taking two breaks in a row.”

Inuoka chuckled, “You might be right! Tell me if someone enters the room and I’ll hide in the locker there.” He pointed towards the locker in front of him, Shibayama cracking a small smile at how carefree the taller man was. The piano tuner then started tearing the package in his hands, looking cautiously at the window giving to the hall before biting into his milk bread.

“Doesn’t it taste better when eaten in forbidden places?” Inuoka added.

Shibayama couldn’t stifle the laugh rolling off his tongue, joining Inuoka’s joyful smile. “Definitely.” 

He appreciated the shift of atmosphere. The room felt lighter with the other man’s presence. The practice room smelled less like pressure, it was easier to breathe. He felt enough at ease to be able to make small talk in spite of the weight still present at the pit of his stomach. “For how long have you known Yamamoto? You seem to be close by the way you call each other.”

Inuoka took another bite of his milk bread, “We’ve known each other for... How long already?" The taller man counted on his fingers, eyes narrowed as he meticulously calculated. After a moment, his eyes lightened. "Ah! Sixteen! We've known each other for sixteen years now. We met in high school, played volleyball together and went our separate ways. But we never lost contact. I’ve been pranking him since back then though.”

“Talking about that, I was kind of expecting you to barge in instead of knocking.”

“Did I scar you that much?” he asked playfully. Inuoka had visited him at the end of his shifts while he was tuning pianos the past two days, yesterday coming in like a tornado as he yanked the door open out of the blue, making Shibayama jump again in surprise. He didn’t talk much with the other man but he was of good company. They also had waited together for Yamamoto to finish tuning his last assigned piano before heading outside of the conservatory together.

“It’s just uncharacteristic of you, I think,” the smaller man added after reflection.

“Mmmm, maybe? My quiet greeting was fine though. And Tora is much more fun to tease than you, without meaning to be rude or anything.”

Shibayama smiled, “I’m not taking it badly.” 

He hadn’t noticed it but while he was only half way through eating his snack, Inuoka had already finished his. He got up and approached the piano, eyeing the instrument with interest. He glanced at Shibayama before motioning towards the piano with his chin, “Can I join in?”

Unsure about what Inuoka meant, he nodded while getting up, letting Inuoka take the seat on the piano bench. The janitor positioned the bench according to his height and placed his fingers on the keys. He started playing a pattern of chords slowly, as if testing the sound before playing a melody Shibayama recognised instantly, the introduction of ‘The Entertainer’ followed by the chords and the main melody of the song. Inuoka’s playing wasn’t fluid at all, the space between the chords uneven and his fingers clumsily hitting wrong notes on some occasions, but the melody was easily distinguishable even if played relatively slowly. Inuoka’s gaze was focused as his eyes were set on the piano keys, analysing where his fingers should go next and coordinating his hands. After great effort, Inuoka played the last chord, smiling while removing his hands from the keys. Shibayama was at loss for words. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t good either. He wondered if he should compliment him or give him tips. “It’s been a while since I heard that song.”

His response made the amateur pianist laugh, head thrown back and eyes closing in pure amusement. Shibayama found himself taking a huge liking to his laugh, tickling his insides in the most warming way. “That’s all you can say about my playing? I know that I’m not great but I’ve improved a lot since two weeks ago! But I should have expected it, coming from a pro.”

His words made Shibayama frown in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“The next day after meeting you last week, I cleaned the hall of frames with photos of graduate students with their respective instruments and saw your name and your face there. I figured you must be a pro since you graduated here. That’s kind of bold of me to play in front of a high class musician with my low skills.”

Shibayama’s smile faltered, gaze darkening before giving a tight, uncomfortable smile. “Ah, yeah…”

“But I had an hunch you wouldn’t look down at me, so I thought ‘fuck it’ and just played.”

“Me having studied here doesn’t make me better than you. It’s not bold to play in front of someone who played professionally. You shouldn’t put yourself down because of it, we’re not elites. A musician is as ordinary as the employee next door working as a cashier.” Shibayama stiffened under Inuoka’s questioning stare, instantly regretting having retorted in such a way. He shouldn't have let the sudden switch of topic irk him as much. _‘That’s it, I blew it. I shouldn’t have talked like to him like that.’_

He was about to apologise when Inuoka started talking at the same time as him, “Someone who ‘played’? Does that mean you stopped playing the piano?”

Shibayama was more shocked at the fact that Inuoka was completely unfazed by his declaration but rather stuck with that piece of information than at his poor reaction to the tone he used. The smaller man gulped, averting his eyes. “Well… Kind of.”

“Why? Did you have an injury?”

“No, that’s not it, it’s just that… How do I put it…” Shibayama started pacing in the small room, half milk bread forgotten in his hand as he wondered how he could tackle the topic. He stopped playing the moment he completed his final performance, unable to play like he used to, his fingers tensing whenever he attempted to play classical pieces. He simply couldn’t. He gave up playing the piano and he still couldn’t fully accept how his relationship with his instrument changed drastically regardless of a decade having flown by. It tore him apart.

He avoided talking about his past at the conservatory like the plague, hell, not even Yamamoto was aware of it even after years of working together and hanging out whenever they could. Shibayama was a private person to begin with and this topic wasn’t an exception. But somehow, talking with Inuoka was easy, Inuoka was reassuring. He had already dipped his toes in the water anyway. “I started studying music because I loved it. I couldn’t see myself doing anything else than playing piano,” he started, glancing at Inuoka watching him intently. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, “But once… Once I started showing potential to have a career in music, once everyone around me and the college started pressuring me and that practicing became… Practicing became a chore, I realised that… Well… That-”

“That you didn’t like playing anymore?”

Inuoka’s blunt words shook him a little bit. “Ye- Yeah… To put it simply, that’s it.”

“I see. For how long?”

“What do you mean ‘how long’?”

“For how long did you study here feeling like that?”

Shibayama chewed on his lower lip, looking at the wall. “Almost the entirety of it.”

“That's awful.”

Inuoka’s instant response made him direct his gaze towards the man, Inuoka’s eyes set on the window giving to the hallway. His expression was sour, bothered even. “I thought I could finish my degree, maybe find my passion again in the middle of it, and then do something else if it failed. My parents don’t talk to me anymore… Neither does the piano, or music.” Shibayama added. Inuoka frowned and looked at him, his gaze holding a kind of emotion that made him feel like his feelings were okay, that he was okay and that he wasn’t wrong for having quit performing. “Turned out that music is the only thing I like, I ended up becoming a piano maker specialising in tuning,” he scoffed bitterly. Avoiding music led to nowhere, he always came rushing back to it in the end. It was painful but being a piano maker was satisfying in its own way.

“To be frank, I can’t stand stuck up musicians who think they are elites and that we, ‘commoners,’ aren’t worth their time. I’m glad you’re not one of them. Stupid fucktards-” Shibayama’s eyes widened, not expecting Inuoka to suddenly explode in frustration. “Seriously, I heard a professor the other day saying bullshit to a student like ‘you should think about changing your career path, you shouldn’t hang onto hope because becoming a successful musician isn’t about dreams but about hard work and results. You’re behind all the other students and I think you should consider switching universities.’ No wonder why the students are as retarded if they’re told shit like that. I swear-”

Suddenly, Shibayama laughed loudly, thrown into a laughing fit. He squeezed his eyes shut and bent forward, uncontrollable laughter taking the best of him. “Why are you laughing? I’m serious! They’re all asshats who should-” Inuoka was interrupted once again by Shibayama’s wild chuckles, the taller man’s words muffled by the pianist’s noises. His mouth stopped making sounds at a certain point as he sat on the floor and laughed until his abdomen and cheeks hurt so much he felt like they would tear in half. 

It took a while but his laughter eventually died down. He managed to open his sore eyes, wiping the stray tears that had escaped from their enclosure. He wasn't sure about why he laughed so hard, but the stress upon his shoulders suddenly felt lighter. Inuoka was refreshing and his words hit home hard. He took a few breaths while trying to calm down and regulate his breathing, “It- It’s been a long while since I’ve laughed as hard.” Inuoka looked at him with sceptic eyes, unsure about what had just happened. Shibayama smiled at him, the most lively and sincere smile he had shown him. “Thank you,” he said with a strained voice. 

Inuoka smiled as a response, eyes and expression softening in understanding. “My pleasure.” They bathed in comfortable silence for a while, Shibayama managing to gain his composure. Revealing his hidden feelings wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Inuoka started pressing the piano keys, “You should tune the piano again, it’s off key. You screwed up.”

“I know.” They looked in each other’s eyes again and laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Inuoka had been right; Shibayama was so unfocused he had tuned the piano half assedly. He would have to redo it again. “Anyway, I should finish cleaning.”

The taller man got up from the bench and opened the door. Shibayama, still sitting on the floor, eyed him as he was about to leave the room. “What about you?”

Inuoka looked at him questioningly, “What?”

“Why are you a janitor out of all the jobs out there you could have?”

The bright man flashed him a smile, “Because I like it. I’m contributing to society in a way, making sure that the students with a stick up their asses study in a clean and sanitary environment.” Shibayama chuckled, Inuoka joining him. He was taking a great liking to his new acquaintance. Inuoka reminded him of the wind; always a refreshing breath of fresh air clearing his mind and making him feel at peace. “Nah, but in all seriousness, I like my job. Cleaning is satisfying and it’s also therapeutic in a way. I’ve got a good enough paycheck too. I wouldn’t trade my job with anything else right now. At least the students have basic manners, they don’t make a mess of the entire building.”

Shibayama hummed in acknowledgement. “Fair enough.”

“So, we’ll see each other once you’ll be done with Tora? There’s an okonomiyaki place not far from here, we could eat there together.”

“Sounds good.”

Inuoka smiled kindly before his eyes suddenly widened, his gaze trained on the package in Shibayama’s hands. His eyes shifted between the snack and the pianist’s face, licking his lips absentmindedly. “Are you going to finish the milk bread or not?”

o

Four months later, Shibayama, armed with his dearest tool bag in hand, stood again in front of the too familiar sign _東京音楽大学,_ _Tōyō Ongaku Daigaku_. This time, willingly. He still dreaded the building with a passion (a passion that was higher than the one he had for performing, he noted), but after spending the past months talking and meeting regularly with Inuoka, he wasn’t as afraid of the conservatory as he had been the past decade. He still avoided tackling the topic like the plague, still couldn’t play or listen to classical music like he used to during his freshman year, but walking in the hallways and entering the various rooms of the building wasn’t as terrifying.

After hearing Inuoka play ‘The Entertainer’ on the piano, Shibayama had oddly been interested in ragtime. It was joyful, energetic and fun, unlike what classical music turned out being for him. He felt like ragtime was the polar opposite of what he learned throughout his life until now. It was a warm contrast that he welcomed with wide arms. He knew a couple of songs, having fooled around with the piano with his college friends enough to have learned a few tunes for fun, but he had a newfound and greater interest towards the genre, making him go as far as practice on the upright piano in Inuoka’s home a couple of times a week. Inuoka also asked for Shibayama to tune his piano at the Nekomata company, upsetting Yamamoto at the same time after telling him that _‘Yuuki is faster than you, he always finishes earlier than you and has really sharp ears. His tuning is flawless.’_

Shibayama’s days, which consisted of working in his atelier and going to various customer’s homes and venues, was the same aside from the addition of evenings spent at Inuoka’s or outside at cafes, bars or restaurants. Shibayama had taken a liking to learning ragtime songs and teasing Inuoka, who still hadn’t managed to learn more than one song each month. 

Playing piano would never be the same as it was when Shibayama had first started. He was convinced that he lost his initial spark, but pressing piano keys and giving his all into performing ragtime had a different, fresh feel to it. Performing music wasn’t his passion anymore but rather an enjoyable hobby, and he was content with it. He played solely whenever he wanted to and never felt obliged to practice in spite of his deeply engraved habit of wondering if he practiced enough and feeling like he could always do more. Old habits were hard to break, after all. 

Playing piano became fun again, to some extent. In a different way, but in a refreshing one. Like a gust of wind, air brushing his skin pleasingly. Just like his new friend with a contagious, bright energy that lightened his daily life and his passion for music that wasn’t solely stuck in darkness anymore.


End file.
